


What's in a name?

by greendragon_templar



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen, larrikinism, prompt was 'a drabble about australia being given/choosing his human name', thanks baguette!!, written in response to a prompt on tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 15:20:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15439971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greendragon_templar/pseuds/greendragon_templar
Summary: In which England responds to the countries’ greater visibility around the turn of the 20th Century by insisting Australia adopt a human name, and where Australia takes one out of spite.





	What's in a name?

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still not certain on what I think would be a good surname for APH Australia, but I've written him as 'Jack' for years. I like its commonality and its 'I really couldn't be bothered' vibe in the context of Australia picking a name for himself.

_You ought to consider adopting a different name for others to know you by_ , reads England’s telegram.

 _Why?_ Australia gleefully answers, in the same form.

The next is more to the point.

_Send me your response or I will pick a name myself._

Australia scowls and has his secretary rip the thing in half. He’s put it off this long; it’s never felt particularly important in the overall scheme of things. He’s had Federation, politicians, wars, _Criminal Codes_ breathing down the back of his neck – more than enough challenges over which he feels his own control slipping. It almost seems as though he doesn’t spend enough time with regular people these days to merit adopting a title closer to theirs.

Why is it even necessary? Blending in, he supposes, carries its advantages (not that he thinks he’ll ever be able to, when the people around him insist on continuing the century-long tradition of mocking and denying his presence). Obeying England’s plea is almost _pointless_. There’s enough on his plate; people can call him Australia, and then at least he has their respect.

So the problem remains unaddressed, unapologetically so. It only occurs to him again when It’s 9 o’clock on a Thursday night and he’s clearing out his desk, distracted from the mountains of other documents demanding his signature, and stumbles upon a bundle of long-emptied envelopes bearing India’s name and address.

India’s not the first to have adopted the habit of signing his title underneath a human name, and in a flash, Australia sees it in a new light:  _an alibi_. Irritation at England’s manner has prevented the revelation from touching him before. A name could just be a way to escape everything  _Australia_  conjures. Temporary escape, temporary anonymity. And not only that, but  _choice_.

If countries like France might derive so much pleasure from forging an identity separate from the norm, why mightn’t he? He can be anyone. One of the crowd. Another unnoteworthy face.  _Australia_  demands reverence, but obscurity is fulfilling in a very different way. A brief fantasy crosses his mind – he imagines being halfway across the country, passing himself off as a traveller, revelling in ignorance. That’s a different sort of anonymity altogether, separate entirely from that which he has been enduring for decades, which he has only recently begun to escape. Nationhood is a burden all in itself, worthy of resentment. Several possible descriptors come to him and he entertains them, if briefly (he could name himself after a bushranger - _that'd_ get England going).

Still, yet again, he forgets all about it.

Later, he gets another telegram, this time from New Zealand.

_England has been shoving the whole names business down my throat. I cannot understand why it matters now where it did not before. I cannot decide so I have made a long list. I will hand it to him next time we meet and choose the one he likes the least._

Australia laughs, but he laughs harder when he hears from England himself.

_I will call you Jack since evidently you do not care to be unique._

For a second he's mildly insulted, but it soon yields. Better _this_ , he tells himself, than prancing around calling himself  _Arthur bloody Kirkland._ What has he got to lose? He’ll take it. There's no better solution to any given problem than one at England's expense, where _he_ reaps the benefits.  _As you bloody wish!_

 _Thank you,_ he replies immediately, grinning ear to ear. _Why don't you give me a surname too?_


End file.
